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Barbara Gordon could hardly believe it. Of all the ways she could end up bested by Harley Quinn, she never expected to be done so underfoot. Not just that, but also shrunk and flattened underfoot. Utterly defeated she could hardly do anything but think and moan lightly, as she was doing now.

“Well, well, well, won’t you look at that?” Harley taunted, “Gotham’s finest heroine, now nothing more than my foot sticker. Soon enough, if I don’t accidentally scrape you off, you’ll be totally infused into my foot. Wouldn’t that be great, Batgirl, our most feared heroine now totally harmless?”

“What could you even do then?” she continued. It’s not like you could move or anything; you’d just be a nice foot decoration. I can already picture it: me showing you off to all your ‘friends’, the look on their faces towards what happened to good old Barbara Gordon.”

“Yes, I know your identity, I mean it wasn’t hard to find out, but anyway. I almost wonder what all this feels like. I have a feeling by your moaning that this must feel good.” She was right, it strangely did. With her entire body subject to her foot squishing, every part of her was on fire.

For whatever reason being flattened just felt incredible, partly due to her privates being crushed. Although, that’s about where her enjoyment of her current predicament ended. With her being so small everything now seemed much more collalsol. 

Obviously, Harley’s foot was, her rather innocuous sole now larger than herself. Her boot, which she had been kept in, was also gigantic now, acting almost like some sort of cavern that she was forced inside. Not only were things physically huge but also sensitivity-wise.

In addition to her reduced size, her senses all became hyper-sensitive. Obviously, her hearing and sense of touch were, given the constant feeling of pleasure all over her body, but her sense of smell and taste had increased tenfold.

For the past few hours, she had dealt with it, and the same tastes and smells. Since she was squashed she had been subject to the taste of Harley’s foot. Less so, but still perceptible. Same thing with her general musk, an acrid aroma engulfing her.

Although, being in her boot was worse. All around her was a disgusting foot and sweat smell, a remnant from all the times she had worn them. Being firmly squished onto the insole, she was forced to taste it, the foam rubber practically oozing with sweat between steps.

This was just horrible, not to mention her inability to do anything. Her fate was now in the hands of this insane villain. “I think it’s enough time out of my boot for the day, I am trying to fuse you with my sole after all.”

“Anyway, hopefully in a couple of weeks, you’ll be as good as gone. No more crime-fighting heroine, just my little foot tattoo. Ain’t that just great, a hero as great as you reduced to a bit of skin on the bottom of a villain's foot. I think so. Well, back in my boot you go, flatgirl.”

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